


Burn That Bridge

by Maplehelicopter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maplehelicopter/pseuds/Maplehelicopter
Summary: After the Hospital Wing encounter on the night of Dumbledore's death, someone finally talks a bit of sense into Remus Lupin as it pertains to Nymphadora Tonks."Ain't no coming back from a love like this; We gonna burn that bridge" - Donovan Woods, "Burn That Bridge"





	Burn That Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Slipping on cracks in the sidewalk  
> Both our eyes are bloodshot  
> And loves coming in so slowly, so slowly, so slowly  
> I put my old phone on talk  
> Just tryin' not to get lost  
> And loves coming in so slowly, so slowly, so slowly
> 
> And I always knew it  
> We were taking the long way round  
> But we got through it  
> And we gone find out now  
> Less breath, first kiss  
> Ain't no coming back from a love like this  
> We gonna burn that bridge
> 
> “Burn That Bridge” - Donovan Woods
> 
>  
> 
> Inspired by a re-read of the last chapters of Half Blood Prince. Set after the confrontation in the Hospital Wing.

 

He doesn't remember how long he'd walked. The grounds seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions and he paced the perimeter, checking the wards and repairing the enchantments where necessary. But it was all done with a sense of going through the motions and nothing more. There was nothing left inside of him at the moment. Everything seemed to be moving in a timeless, floating haze.

 

It was very dark out he realized with a start as he looked up at the lit windows of the castle. It had to be well past nine or ten by now. He walked with his hands shoved in his robe pockets back up to the steps and into the front entrance, eyes cast downward. He was not welcome here anymore; not since what had transpired at the end of his teaching career. Sure, there were people here who liked him, but he felt a pit of fear in his stomach at the thought of meeting some former student in the halls. They all knew about him now.

 

But he needed to check in before he went home. McGonagall would want a report and he should probably ask after Harry, though the mere thought of the boy made him nauseous. James' son deserved so much more than this.

 

He turned the corner past the Great Hall and down towards the passage that led to the Headmaster's office. He was about to turn another corner when he heard a sound; someone was calling his name.

 

“Remus?”

 

He turned, meeting the eyes of Madame Pomfrey who stood in the doorway of the dimly-lit hospital wing. She gave him a small half-smile and stepped back to let him inside.

 

Bill was still in the first bed, heavily bandaged. Fleur slept in a chair by his side and Molly Weasley was curled up on a nearby bed, also asleep. Down the ward, Neville and Professor Flitwick were also asleep.

 

“My office,” Madam Pomfrey whispered. He followed her into the small, cozy room with the variety of yellowing posters about teenage acne potions and contraceptive spells.

 

He sank into the worn tartan armchair, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he could recall ever feeling before.

 

“Tea?” Madam Pomfrey asked. He looked up at her, noticing for the first time how red and swollen her eyes looked. She'd been crying in the dark hospital wing alone.

 

“Please,” he rasped, voice unused for several hours. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his weary eyes.

 

“Have the others left?” she asked, passing him a mug.

 

“Mostly, I think. I was checking the perimeter. Moody might still be upstairs with McGonagall.”

 

“And Miss Tonks?”

 

He glanced up from his mug, feeling her keen stare on him. It was a familiar expression often delivered after his insistence that he was well enough to be out of bed or that he wasn't in _that much_ pain.

 

“She went home,” he muttered.

 

“Do you love her?” Madam Pomfrey asked bluntly. After years of dealing with the cageyness of Remus Lupin, she knew that being direct was sometimes the best way to get to him.

 

He sighed heavily.

 

“It doesn't matter if I do.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means that she deserves better. It means that she'll regret it.”

 

“Remus John Lupin,” she said, setting her mug down heavily on her desk. “Listen to me for once in your life. You deserve her. She loves you.”

 

Remus stared down at the milky tea in his mug and tried very hard to ignore the prickling at the corner of his eyes. He blinked and squeezed the mug handle tightly.

 

“Remus,” she repeated, her tone softening. “I know. It's been a shock. He was important to all of us, but I know you felt you owed him for letting you come to Hogwarts; for letting you have a life. He would want you to be happy, Remus. That's all he ever wanted: for you to have the same things as the rest of us. And that includes being loved.”

 

He bit his lip hard, taking a slow breath through his nose.

 

“Come here,” she said, pushing back her desk chair and standing to circle the desk. She stretched her arms out.

 

Before he fully comprehended what was happening, he was being held tightly. His body tensed in her arms for a moment, reacting with shock to the unfamiliar sensation. She put a hand tenderly to the back of his head and stroked his greying hair.

 

The last time he had been hugged like this was so long ago that he could not recall if it had been by his mother or Lily or someone else. The grief broke inside of him like a dam and rushed forward, knocking him flat. He took a shuddering breath and let out a strained sob.

 

“I know,” she said. “It's okay.”

 

He could hear the tears in her voice too. Steeling himself, he swallowed down the pain and took another deep breath. She released her grip on him and stood back, watching as he wiped his eyes with his palms.

 

“Don't tamp it down,” she scolded.

 

He laughed, a half-sob and half-chuckle.

 

“No point in blubbering,” he choked, still feeling the tears threatening in the corners of his eyes.

 

She smiled wryly at him, squeezing his shoulder.

 

“You need rest. There's a bed here if you want to stay the night.”

 

“I can't,” he said wearily. “I shouldn't be here. If someone sees me...”

 

“I can send word to Minerva that the perimeter is secured,” she said. “Where will you go? Back to Yorkshire?”

 

He hesitated, thinking of sitting alone in that decrepit old cottage with the leaky roof. No, he couldn't go there.

 

“There's someone I need to go talk to,” he said softly.

 

She smiled and nodded.

 

“Good. Send me word tomorrow that you're okay. I expect the funeral will be in a few days, so I'll see you soon.”

 

He reached out and hugged her again.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

“Always,” she replied, looking tenderly at her longest patient and favourite frequent visitor to her ward. “Give my love to Nymphadora.”

 

* * *

 

 

He walked the length of the grounds in the cooling night air and came to the gates, removing the protections to allow himself out and then resetting them. Tonks had taken up residence in a flat in Hogsmede for the year to make her Order duties patrolling the grounds and village easier.

 

It was only a short walk to her steps and he looked up to see her bedroom window still lit. Steeling himself, he knocked on the door. Her silhouette appeared in the window for a brief moment, eyes staring down at him from above with an expression he couldn't make out from behind the gauzy curtain. Her steps sounded down the stairs to the front door and she threw it open.

 

She was wearing an old t-shirt with pyjama bottoms and her eyes were swollen and shadowed.

 

“Hello,” he said softly.

 

She didn't speak but took his hand and led him inside.

 

“What did you say to me in the hospital wing?” she asked, searching his face with her eyes.

 

He swallowed.

 

“That I was too old, too poor...”

 

“And what did I say?”

 

“That you didn't care.”

 

She threw her arms around him and held on like a shipwrecked sailor to a life preserver.

 

“I don't care,” she whispered into his ear.

 

He nodded against her shoulder.

 

“Who talked sense into you? McGonagall? Arthur?”

 

“Poppy.”

 

“Ah. I should send her a card.”

 

He chuckled, breath warm on her neck.

 

“Let's go up,” she said, breaking the hug.

 

Two shots of Firewhiskey and a joint later, they lay in her bed, limbs tangled, holding on in their shared grief. He slept heavily and she lay half-awake, watching him. He looked younger in sleep, his face more vulnerable and carefree than his normal expression. At some point she finally succumbed to exhaustion and the next thing she knew, she was waking to the curve of Remus' back as he sat on the edge of the bed in the morning sunshine with a mug of coffee in his hand.

 

“Remus?” she said. He jumped a little and turned to look at her.

 

“You're awake,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

 

“No. I don't even remember falling asleep.”

 

“I don't think I've slept that well in a year,” he said and she felt her heart swell with affection.

 

“I'm glad,” she said, reaching out for him. He set his coffee on her nightstand and allowed himself to be pulled into her arms.

 

She kissed him deeply, feeling the two days of stubble on his face and tasting the coffee on his breath. He sighed and relaxed into her. It was the first time she could remember him this at ease.

 

His head was tucked under her chin now as she stroked the top on his head lazily.

 

“I can't believe he's gone,” she said softly.

 

He didn't respond but she felt his breath catch.

 

“Love?” she asked, reaching down to stroke his cheek.

 

“I don't know how we're going to do this without him,” Remus murmured. “I don't know how Harry will do this without him.”

 

“Harry is strong. And he has us,” she said. “I just don't understand how he could've underestimated Snape. How did he fool Dumbledore? I know Harry said that he'd repented for giving Voldemort the prophecy, but you said he hated James. Why would he do that?”

 

“He hated James, but he was friends with Lily once,” Remus said softly. “Maybe he regretted putting her in danger.”

 

“He was friends with Lily?”

 

“Yes,” Remus said, rolling over to lie face-to-face with her. “They grew up together as neighbours. They were close when they arrived at school, but they drifted apart. Snape couldn't resist the Dark Arts and he started acting terribly towards her. Called her all sorts of awful things. But maybe part of him regretted it and he told Dumbledore about the Prophecy.”

 

“Does Harry know about Lily and Snape?”

 

Remus shook his head.

 

“I don't think so. It's not my place to tell him either. At this point, I think it would infuriate him more than it would give clarity.”

 

“Did you trust him?” she asked.

 

“I didn't suspect this,” he replied with a weary sigh. “There was no love between us, that's for certain. No friend of James could ever be on good terms with Severus. And beyond that, he loathed me for what I am. But he brewed the Wolfsbane faithfully even after I left the school whenever Dumbledore asked on my behalf.”

 

“The longest con,” Tonks said bitterly, shaking her head. “I can't believe it. I can't believe Dumbledore thought he'd turned.”

 

“Dumbledore liked a hopeless case,” Remus said with a shrug. “How else did I end up at Hogwarts.”

 

She swatted his arm.

 

“There will be one rule in the flat and that's no self-deprecation. I know you've really mastered the art but I must insist.”

 

“Right. I promise.”

 

“Good,” she said, jutting forward to kiss him. “Now what time is it?”

 

“Nearly eleven.”

 

She almost toppled out of bed.

 

“Ah, fuck, I need to get to the office,” she said, untangling herself from the sheets. “They're probably flipping out down there.”

 

He yawned.

 

“Really? I thought maybe bereavement leave or something?” he said through the yawn.

 

She raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“I'm not his widow or something,” she said, kicking off her pyjama bottoms and digging in her wardrobe for a pair of pants. She found some and tugged up an orange set with green stripes. Remus watched with a small grin from the bed.

 

“Are you trying to get me to stay so we can shag all day?” she asked, pulling off her top and shrugging into a bra that clashed horribly with the orange knickers.

 

“Maybe,” he said, blushing faintly.

 

“I would call that truly fucked up but I think Dumbledore would be happy to think of us shagging in his memory.”

 

He laughed and she felt herself grinning at the sound of it. She'd so rarely heard that laugh since Sirius died.

 

“I'll try not to be too late,” she said as she put on her Auror robes. “There's some food in the fridge. Help yourself.”

 

He nodded.

 

“Alright. I promise I won't stay here in bed all day without you.”

 

“Liar,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. “See you later.”

 

She left, taking her bag from the hook in the hall and Floo-ing over to the Ministry. Remus rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

 

 _Move, Lupin,_ he said to himself internally, trying to quiet the creeping feeling of anxiety in his body. _The world keeps spinning. Get up._

 

He resisted the pull to fall back into the quiet sanctuary of sleep and instead swung his legs up, climbing out of Tonks' bed. He fixed the sheets with a quick spell, certain that it was the first time the bed had ever been made up. On the way to the loo, he caught a glimpse of himself in her mirror and paused, taking in the man that stared back at him.

 

His eyes were shadowed despite the good night of sleep and the silver in his hair now formed a broad streak across the top and at his temples. He blinked, wiping his eyes, and stared at the reflection.

 

 _No self-deprecation_ , her voice said in his head.

 

Right. A shower was in order instead. He washed and dried off in her small bathroom and then made himself a sandwich, sitting down at the messy kitchen table with a quill and parchment. He pushed aside her stack of Auror reports and a pile of junk from her purse to make room to write.

 

First, his promised message to Madam Pomfrey.

 

_Poppy,_

 

_Tonks says she owes you a card. I probably owe you a lot more. All is well here. See you in a few days._

 

_Best,_

_Remus_

 

He wrote another to McGonagall, offering any help he could with the funeral arrangements and another to Moody with an update on the school security spells he'd fixed the night prior. He gathered the parchment scrolls and tucked them into his pocket, sliding on his shoes and taking Tonks' spare key from the table by the door.

 

The walk to the Owl Post Office was short and easy, but he took his time, enjoying the morning July sunshine. He paid the few sickles to post the letters up to the castle and took a detour to the book store to browse. He ended up spending an hour in the back, hunched over a tome furtively and ignoring the shopkeeper's glare. It proved to be a good escape; he'd nearly lost the dull pit of grief that had sat in his stomach since the previous evening in the Hospital Wing. On a rare indulgent whim, he bought the book and left to visit some shops for food and a few bottles of Butterbeer. Purchases in hand, he went back to the flat.

 

No sooner had he unlocked the door and put the purchases away did he feel the sudden, hot rise of anxiety returning to his limbs.

 

 _No,_ he thought. _This is fine. She wants you to be here._

 

He sank into the tattered couch, breathing quickly as the panic increased.

 

 _Remus_ , he told himself, thinking of Madam Pomfrey's stern yet kind face. _Breathe._

 

He took a deep inhalation through his nose and exhaled loudly. His heart thundered in his chest and his hands trembled, but he focused on the steady task of breathing, closing his eyes to focus on the rhythm.

 

Slowly, he calmed the anxiety to a dull throb instead of an insistent roar. He cracked one of the Butterbeers and took a sip.

 

There was a loud clatter from the stairs below. Remus drew his wand and approached the door warily, tugging it open. Tonks was at the bottom, her bag contents all over the steps.

 

“Wotcher,” she said, her tone exasperated. “I tripped.”

 

He flicked his wand, sending the contents back into her bag.

 

She bit her lip, suppressing a grin. It was hard to tell in the dim stairwell, but he thought that her brown hair might be slightly tinted with a glow of pink.

 

“Have a nice morning?” she asked, bounding up the steps to kiss him.

 

“Security question,” he warned.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“What colour pants did I put on this morning?”

 

He laughed.

 

“Awful orange and green stripes.”

 

She pressed her lips to his.

 

“Correct,” she murmured. Breaking the kiss, she added, “Moody sent me home. I think McGonagall told him about our little spat in the hospital wing.”

 

Remus winced a little at the memory.

 

“No, no,” Tonks warned. “Don't think about it. It's in the past. You're here now.”

 

Remus kissed her deeply and they stumbled into the flat, giggling against each others lips.

 

“I want you,” she said, running her hands up his chest.

 

He looked at her with hunger in his eyes, the anxiety replaced by deep affection for the beautiful woman in his arms. They raced to her room and tumbled onto the bed. He pulled her robes up and off until she was in her knickers and bra, grinning wickedly at him. He ran his hands down the swell of her hips, pulling her close.

 

They kissed, exploring mouths and rocking in a slow rhythm together. She reached for the buckle of his trousers, loosening the worn leather belt and pulling it free, slipping her hand down to touch him. He sputtered with surprise, hips rising to her grip with unexpected eagerness. He groaned softly and she laughed.

 

“You weren't joking this morning.”

 

He kissed down her chest and unhooked her bra, sliding it off and circling his tongue skillfully around her nipples.

 

“Lie down,” he said and she obeyed. He slid her knickers down over her hips and lowered his head between her legs.

 

“Christ, Lupin,” she moaned as he tasted her. “Where in the hell did you learn to do th— _ahhh_ ”

 

He laughed against her as she spasmed with pleasure.

 

“Merlin's pants,” she moaned, gripping the sheets. “How dare you hold out on me when you know how to do this.”

 

He rose up, tugging his trousers down over his thin waist and guiding himself into her. She sat up, riding into his hips and reaching to take off his shirt.

 

“Okay?” she asked softly.

 

He nodded, letting her tug it off to reveal a torso marked with decades of scars and wounds. She ran her hands down the sinewy lines of his chest and to his slim hips, pulling him further into her.

 

It was his turn to moan as he thrust with vigour, seeing stars in his vision. They rose and fell together, breath panting and puffing and moaning and crying out.

 

“ _Christ_ ,” she groaned, shaking all over. “ _Please._”

 

He felt himself begin to cum at her pleading words and he rocked up into her forcefully. She shuddered and cried out and he gasped, spasming in her arms.

 

As they lay in the afterglow, a cleaning spell done and the sheets fresh and soft around them, she rolled over to rest her head on his chest.

 

“That was nice,” she said with a yawn.

 

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

 

“Not too bad for me either.”

 

She swatted at him playfully.

 

“I'm going to sleep, you twat,” she said teasingly, closing her eyes. He stroked her hair until she was heavy in his arms, sleeping peacefully. It was his turn to look at her in sleep, taking in the gentle swoop of her nose and the flush of her cheeks. There was a peaceful hum in his limbs now, calm and happy.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, they stood side by side at the back of the rows of chairs set out for Dumbledore's funeral. Remus glanced around at the assembling crowd, eyes darting past former students and members of the Ministry, wondering if they cared about his presence there. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, gathering his composure. Tonks, seeming to sense his discomfort, reached out and twined her fingers through his. He felt himself relax a little.

 

Harry passed by with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny close at his side. Remus watched as James' doppelganger glanced at him with an expression he'd never seen on James' face. The boy looked beyond exhausted.

 

There was a sudden sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and they all turned towards the lake. Beneath the surface, the Merpeople were singing. It was a haunting sound that made him feel at once terribly sad and also at peace. Tonks wiped her eyes and squeezed his hand tighter.

 

“It's okay,” he told her softly as the officiant took his place in front of the marble table and Hagrid approached, bearing Dumbledore's body. He looked at the small velvet-draped figure in Hagrid's massive arms and wondered how it possibly could be the man that had changed his entire world with one sentence: “Would you like to go to Hogwarts, Remus?”

 

The ceremony felt deeply impersonal for a man who'd been so much to so many. Perhaps there was no way to say how so many of them felt. As the warm summer air breezed across the departing crowd, Remus pulled Tonks into his arms and rested his chin atop her head.

 

“Let's go home.”

 

As they turned to leave, a gentle hand touched Remus on the shoulder. He turned to see Madam Pomfrey smiling at him.

 

“Good,” she said softly, putting her other hand on Tonks' shoulder.

 

Remus nodded and squeezed her arm.

 

“We were just taking things slowly,” he said coyly.

 

Pomfrey laughed softly, wiping away the last of her tears from the ceremony.

 

“No going back now,” she said, looking affectionately at the pair now.

 

They said their goodbyes and headed for the gates hand in hand. Remus glanced over his shoulder one last time at the castle. Poppy was right; there was really no going back now. Nothing would ever be the same without Dumbledore. But as Tonks squeezed his hand, he thought to himself that some of those things were joyful in the face of the grief, even if they'd taken it slow to get there.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are massively appreciated <3 Thanks for reading!


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